Idle Hands
by ryagelle
Summary: Jazz is bored, and to his delight, so is Sideswipe. Oneshot, slash, G1, PWP. Completely pointless, and no connection whatsoever to the Twinning the Hatchet series.


A/N: This is a short, pointless piece of smut written as a gift for rustychevy on mecha erotica. It is completely and utterly plotless--consider yourself warned. ;p

Disclaimer: I own nothing. I am only borrowing--without permission. -.-;

* * *

Jazz was bored. Scratch that—Jazz was not just bored, Jazz was achingly, painfully, _phenomenally_ bored.

And, as no few Autobots had discovered, a bored Jazz was a supremely annoying, and occasionally dangerous, Jazz.

There had been absolutely _no_ 'Con activity for _weeks_, and the monotony was beginning to grate on the saboteur. He'd grown disenchanted with his usual distractions; there were only so many times you could play a particular game or pull a certain prank before it got as stale as last week's energon. Following mechs around and being as obnoxious as possible lost its entertainment value fairly quickly as well, particularly when the mech in question decided to sulk and refuse to play along.

Prowl had gotten to the point of avoiding him like the plague, and Jazz heavily suspected that Prime would have liked to do the same—except Prime was not _nearly_ as good at being sneaky as Prowl was. Jazz wondered if anyone really knew how often the Second in Command had been able to give him the slip; of course, anyone who had witnessed a game of 'annoy the tactician' would have quickly realized that Prowl would have had to learn out of self-defense.

Jazz was nothing if not…persistent.

Still, Prowl's ability to vanish into thin air if he so much as _thought_ that the saboteur was in the vicinity, coupled with everyone else's currently less-than-warm feelings toward the restless special ops agent, left him decidedly lacking in things to do. He ended up pacing the halls, wishing he run up against something at least vaguely interesting and not holding out much hope that he actually would.

He was beginning to become disheartened once again when he finally caught sight of something in the rec. room that made him think that the day could be redeemed after all: a Lamborghini twin. A _red_ one.

And he looked just as bored as Jazz.

This… could be fun.

"Hey Siders," Jazz said smoothly, dropping down onto the couch beside Sideswipe.

"Hey," the Lamborghini grunted, barely glancing at the saboteur before refocusing on the movie that Jazz could tell he wasn't really watching.

"Bored?" the Porsche asked cheerfully, finally seeing a possible ending to his own tedium.

Sideswipe turned a slightly desperate look on him. "Primus yes!" he said fervently, optics far too bright for his own good.

Oh, this was perfect. Jazz grinned.

Sideswipe was instantly wary. "I don't trust you when you smile like that," he said suspiciously. The saboteur's grin only broadened.

"C'mon," Jazz said, leaping to his feet, "I'm sure we can find _something_ to do!"

The Lamborghini's expression remained skeptical, but he followed Jazz to the Porsche's quarters without protest—the better to plan something nefarious without prying audios catching it.

Once the door had cycled shut behind them, Sideswipe turned to stare at Jazz expectantly with his arms crossed over his chestplate. "So…have you actually got an idea, or are we just brainstorming here?" he asked shrewdly. "_And_ might I remind you that Prowl has been keeping close tabs on me since the silly putty incident, so whatever we end up doing, it _has_ to be subtle."

Jazz feigned a hurt look. "Now, Sides, you know better than to think I'd be careless enough to get us _caught_," he pouted, and Sideswipe snorted disbelievingly. "And as for an idea—well, I'm kinda workin' on that part," he admitted.

"You're in the same boat I am, aren't you?" the red warrior asked dryly, arching an amused optic ridge at Jazz. "You've done everything already, and now there's nothing to do." He smirked, obviously believing he had the Porsche pegged.

Of course, Jazz was hardly going to give him the satisfaction of letting him know that he had. He brightened as he was struck with a sudden bout of inspiration—it was not what he'd originally had in mind, but it would certainly be _interesting_, provided Sideswipe took the bait. "Y'know, pranks aren't the _only_ fun thing we can do," he commented in a deliberately sultry tone, and was rewarded by Sideswipe's abruptly undivided attention.

"I'm listening," the Lamborghini said in a low voice, taking a step closer.

Jazz took a moment to privately congratulate himself.

"Well," he said coyly, daring to run a single black finger down the red chestplate, "there's always this," and he trailed his hand along until his fingers found and traced an interface port. Sideswipe cycled air through his cooling system sharply, and Jazz smiled.

"You don't say," Sideswipe said, and the saboteur was thoroughly pleased to hear a very slight tremor in the cool voice.

"Oh, but I do," Jazz said throatily, and he stretched up to press a bold kiss to the red mech's lips. Sideswipe's arms came up to wrap around him automatically, and he returned the kiss with enthusiasm.

"I think I can deal with that," the Lamborghini said breathily after they parted.

Sideswipe immediately took charge of the encounter, backing Jazz across the room to the recharge berth and pressing him down onto it once he bumped into it. The saboteur let him, not really caring which of them led so long as it was as good as it was promising to be. He couldn't help the little noise of pleasure that escaped him when the Lamborghini's clever hand delved into his wheel-well, and he chuckled at Sideswipe's undignified squeak as he pressed his fingers back into the interface port he'd found.

"That's not playing fair," Sideswipe managed, wriggling his free hand beneath the Porsche's front bumper to play with the circuitry there.

"All's fair in love and war, Siders," Jazz panted, arching into the bigger mech's caresses.

"And which is this?" The red twin asked, between lavishing kisses across Jazz's chestplate. "Love? Or war?"

Jazz laughed softly. "I think I'll let you decide," he murmured, reaching up to fondle the stubby horns on his lover's helm. He was betting that Sideswipe's were nearly as sensitive as his own—and his suspicions were confirmed when the warrior cried out and leaned into his touch.

Of course, Sideswipe was nothing if not a quick study; Jazz tucked his face into the crook of the Lamborghini's neck and mewled with pleasure as the red twin returned the favor. His engine revved hard in excitement, and Sideswipe's provided a rumbling bass counterpoint to its overtaxed whine.

Sideswipe smirked at having momentarily gained the upper hand over the Porsche, only to gasp and moan when Jazz actually dared to dip his fingers into his interface port and draw out the link cable nestled there. Both mechs shuddered as they felt the cable click home in Jazz's own port, and they moaned in unison as their systems synchronized over the connection.

Sensation was magnified in the link; each caress had just as much effect on the giver as the receiver. They dimly noted that their core temperatures were rising quickly, and the first warnings were beginning to flash across their visuals, but they paid them no heed, too lost in the euphoric haze of approaching overload.

Sideswipe dug his hand into a seam in the armor on the saboteur's side, gently tugging wires and stroking sensor nodes as he tried to get as close to Jazz's spark chamber as he could. Jazz's vocalizer shorted, producing nothing but garbled static as the Lamborghini's actions finally pushed him into overload. Connected as they were, his release triggered Sideswipe's, and he keened and shook in the Porsche's embrace as excess energy crackled across their frames.

They lay in silence for a long while afterward, spent and trembling.

"So," Jazz drawled, once he felt he had finally regained control of his vocalizer, "still bored?"

Sideswipe burst into surprised laughter and nuzzled his cheek tenderly. "Nope, definitely not still bored."


End file.
